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"It was a wonderful experience interacting with you and appreciate the way you have planned and executed the whole publication process within the agreed timelines.”
Subrat SaurabhAuthor of Kuch Woh Pal
I had a breathtaking, heartbreaking love affair with an Indian sex goddess as introverted as a clam. I met the woman of my dreams in Kabul, and nearly dropped dead after smoking hashish with her. I was approached in Colombo's Viharmahadevi Park by a shady character with some shocking proposals to make. I crossed guerrilla infested areas of Bangladesh, and met Bohomongri, the Bohomong King, a ninety nine year old man as dynamic and horny as a teenager. In 1974.
I had a breathtaking, heartbreaking love affair with an Indian sex goddess as introverted as a clam. I met the woman of my dreams in Kabul, and nearly dropped dead after smoking hashish with her. I was approached in Colombo's Viharmahadevi Park by a shady character with some shocking proposals to make. I crossed guerrilla infested areas of Bangladesh, and met Bohomongri, the Bohomong King, a ninety nine year old man as dynamic and horny as a teenager. In 1974. while the main highway to Kathmandu was crumbling, as it usually does during the monsoon, I hiked through silent valleys and high mountain passes to reach what was at that time the fabulous destination of the hippies. All this and much more in Barefoot in the Himalaya.
The year was 1974 and that year the monsoon had brought biblical rains all over Hindustan, soaking without any partiality Hindus and Muslims, and causing massive floods all over North India. My wife Janina and I left Delhi around the end of August completely unaware of how desperate the situation was between the capital and Raxoul, a town only a few hundred kilometers in the East and on the border with Nepal. The train journey was a long, wet ordeal, involving
The year was 1974 and that year the monsoon had brought biblical rains all over Hindustan, soaking without any partiality Hindus and Muslims, and causing massive floods all over North India. My wife Janina and I left Delhi around the end of August completely unaware of how desperate the situation was between the capital and Raxoul, a town only a few hundred kilometers in the East and on the border with Nepal. The train journey was a long, wet ordeal, involving many unscheduled halts in hitherto unknown places, plus several changes of itinerary due to the impossibility of crossing areas that had turned into vast lakes. At last, three days after we'd left Delhi Janina and I reached Raxoul. It was late in the evening; humidity was way up there, and thick clouds of insects buzzed around each one of the few crooked and rusted lampposts that were trying to illuminate the small, rain drenched square outside the Raxoul station. Through the thin haze we could see a guest house nearby on the left. It looked quite rundown, but for one night it could have done...
"Today is my birthday," Shanti said, taking the pot and filling the cups. "I want to celebrate it in style. If you guys are up to it, I am ready for it."
As if Shanti had said nothing, I kept going. "We drove to the hot springs a few times at night along with a few friends. It was great. We had wine, we had weed. One night while I was soaking in the hot water I saw a falling star shooting right across the sky and splitting twice before disappearing."
"Today is my birthday," Shanti said, taking the pot and filling the cups. "I want to celebrate it in style. If you guys are up to it, I am ready for it."
As if Shanti had said nothing, I kept going. "We drove to the hot springs a few times at night along with a few friends. It was great. We had wine, we had weed. One night while I was soaking in the hot water I saw a falling star shooting right across the sky and splitting twice before disappearing."
Rasta John mumbled something I did not understand. I took my cup of green tea and started sipping on it. Shanti and Rasta John did the same....
...Realizing that the chemistry was working not only between Shanti and me, but also between her and Rasta John, suddenly I understood what the steamy Californian had meant by saying she could have both. That was a first indeed. Up to then I'd never been proposed a threesome of that sort. A moment later Rasta John passed me a fresh joint he'd just finished rolling. I had a couple of puffs, and gave it to Shanti.
Looking at me with a very seductive smile, Shanti took the joint. Then, focusing on John, she said, "We always think it has to be either one or the other, but I don't think so. John, you are coming as well."...
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